


she meets me in a field of stone

by armyofbees



Series: over time without a break [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Eliza is Emotionally Unstable, F/F, Grave visiting, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Metaphors, graveyards, idk what to tag this but??? it's sad, is that a tag, it should be, references to jeremy messersmith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10831629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armyofbees/pseuds/armyofbees
Summary: Eliza comes in through the back gate. The grass is green today, and the sky is gray. She wonders if it’s going to rain. She doesn’t carry an umbrella, but it’s okay. The clouds hang heavy in the sky. She wonders dully if she’ll be buried here, too. She doesn’t think it would be so bad. A little cloudy, is all.--Eliza pays a visit to a graveyard. She brings with her tulips and thunderstorms.





	she meets me in a field of stone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please mind the suicide tag, it's not a super big theme but it's mentioned and referenced, so yeah. This is sad, like literally every other thing I write, so have fun. Don't play with your lives, kids. Title is from [A Girl, A Boy, and a Graveyard](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2XdgMFffZU) by Jeremy Messersmith. Enjoy!  
> (Also come yell at me on Tumblr @2000-bees-in-very-comfy-pajamas)

Eliza comes in through the back gate. The grass is green today, and the sky is gray. She wonders if it’s going to rain. She doesn’t carry an umbrella, but it’s okay.

She wanders along the trail, runs her hand over some of the stones. It doesn’t rain. The clouds hang heavy in the sky. She wonders dully if she’ll be buried here, too. She doesn’t think it would be so bad. A little cloudy, is all.

She doesn’t visit her family’s graves, though there is an abundance of them. Her entire extended family, born and raised and died in New York City. Buried together, like a pitiful flock of crows, huddling for warmth. She doesn’t look at the names as she passes.

She sits down in front of a small grave. It’s off to the side of the yard, almost isolated. There are no other markers from the same family. She makes a show of fixing her skirt, then deposits a single tulip in front of the grave. There are hundreds more lying there, all flaming orange. Eliza thinks of how long it’s been, and she purses her lips.

“Hey,” she says softly. “I think summer’s coming. Finally.” She glances up at the sky. “May’s looking a little rainy, and it’s been kind of cold, but I think it’s warming up, now. You loved summer. Did I ever tell you how beautiful you looked in that sundress?” Eliza clasps her hands together tightly. “I think so.” A pause. “I hope so.”

The sky is gray, and she can hear the gentle rumble of thunder in the distance. She doesn’t move.

“Angelica graduates this year. I’m not sure I’m ready for her to leave, you know? I just…” Eliza shakes her head, pulls at the grass. There’s a dandelion by her knee. She picks it. “She’s been there for me, through all of it. She says nothing will change, but you know how these things work.” Eliza pulls the tiny petals from the yellow flower. One by one by one.  _ Loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not, loves me, left me. _ “I’ll still have Peggy, though. So it’s not all bad.”

She looks at the dandelion petals, scattered over the green and orange of the tulips. Like yellow rain. It will rain soon.

“Can you believe Herc and Laf finally got their shit together?” she asks, laughing. It’s flat. Sad. “You were always bugging them. It’s weird that you’re not around to see them like this. It’s cute.” Eliza closes her eyes. “We all miss you.”

She takes a while to examine the stone. It’s shiny, new. It’s too pristine, she thinks. Too clean for slit wrists and stiff limbs and blood in the water. She thinks the dates are too close together. People don’t die after sixteen years, not anymore.  _ It’s not how it’s supposed to go. _ She runs her hand along the engravings, and they’re real. Sixteen years. That’s all.

A raindrop falls on the grave—yellow, blue, green, red. What does it matter? Eliza’s hand falls back to her lap. Slowly, slowly, the rain begins to fall steadily. She doesn’t move.

“You always complained about the rain,” Eliza says, and turns her face up to the sky. “I loved it. It’s soothing. Now it just makes me think of you.” Eliza breathes in deeply. “I don’t know what this is supposed to feel like. I don’t know what thinking about you is supposed to feel like.” Eliza lets her tears mix with the rain. “I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be happy when I think of that time you almost set your shirt on fire on the Fourth of July. I’m supposed to be sad, right? And I—I don’t feel that. Sad.” Eliza’s hands shake. She balls them into fists. It doesn’t help. “I just feel… empty. I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

She leans forward, presses her forehead against the stone. She gasps for breath, and her tears are too warm to be rain. “I’m sorry,” she breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t move. The rain is going to stain her dress, but she doesn’t really care. The stone is cold against her face, but she doesn’t care about that, either. She thinks she’s crushing the tulips, but they’re just flowers. She doesn’t know why she brings them, anyway. It doesn’t change anything. Not really.

She sits back. “I…” Her voice gives out and she’s left sitting, letting the rain tangle in her hair and stain her skin yellow.

“I keep thinking that if I come around often enough, you’ll come back.” Her voice is choked, gravelly. “I know it’s stupid. But we miss you. I miss you. You used to say… Life’s a game you’re meant to lose. But you’re not supposed to lose so early, I don’t think. I don’t think life’s a game, either. I think it affects too many people to be a game. I think it’s too much of a weapon to be played with.”

Eliza takes a shuddering breath. “I can’t… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I think the others can tell, too. They all treat me like I’m going to shatter.” She stops, whispers, “I think I’m going to shatter.”

She curls in on herself, hugging her ribs and shaking violently. Thunder rolls and the rain beats down on her. She lies, defeated, in her bed of tulips. The rain pounds on her chest, her face. She  _ doesn’t care. _

She made this bed for herself, literally. She has to lie in it.

“Sometimes I look for you at school,” she whispers, and falls silent.  _ I hope you’re around every corner. I hope you’re waiting at my locker. Sometimes I think I see you, but it’s never you. Sometimes I think it’ll be okay, but it never is. _

She doesn’t move for a long time. The rain fades, the sky clears. The sun is warm, and Eliza hates it. She hates it because summer means everyone is going to be happy and free. She hates it because everyone else gets to be, but she’s stuck on a  _ goddamned grave. _

“I think summer’s coming,” she says, softly. “I think you’d like it.”

She sits up slowly, stands, wrings out her hair. She straightens out the flowers, tries to uncrush them. But that doesn’t work, does it? So she’ll bring more. She runs her fingers one more time along the grooves on the headstone.

_ Maria Lewis _

_ Beloved friend _

_ Born 30th March 1999 _

_ Died 25th March 2016 _

_ Aged 16 years _

“I’ll see you later,” she whispers, and turns to leave. She pauses, turns back. “I’ll tell Alex you said hi, yeah? I think he’d like that. I’ll bring him along next time.” She turns back around and walks briskly out of the yard, through the back gate. She doesn’t cry.


End file.
